A Bad Aftertaste

The road bubbles in the summer heat,

A Bad Aftertaste

Flies circle in the 
hot afternoon sun.
Ain’t nothing like 
that smell of sulfur
of a man on the run.

It’s that time of day
everything is slow,
and there is nothing
left behind but
news on the radio.

They got ‘em a sketch
for  some billboard paste,
and like the cheep whisky, 
it leaves a bad aftertaste.

The road bubbles
in the summe…